


Things You Said

by violetmessages



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/pseuds/violetmessages
Summary: Four unconnected conversations that Ianto Jones has.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper & Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Ianto Jones & Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	Things You Said

**things you said when you were scared**

“It hurts,” Gwen murmured into his shoulder. 

He couldn’t look at her - they were shoved against each other inside a miniscule container, chest to chest in an incredibly uncomfortable position, hands bound behind them. The container was just big enough to accommodate the two of them, with no room to move, the only air coming from the pinpricks of light from the top. If he could move his arm, he’d try and reach above, hoping to shove it out of the way or even estimate how far up the top was. 

“I’m sorry,” Ianto responded softly, guilty about not being able to provide her relief in any meaningful way. She sighed, leaning her weight against him. They’d been standing for ages, Gwen on one foot for all of the time they’d been trapped.

“When I thought of alien kidnappings, I expected a lot more probing. Not being thrown into a box,” she laughed, voice strained. He snorted in response - closing his eyes and swaying slightly. Ianto was already tired from the neverending shifts that had only increased after Tosh and Owen, and now both of them were badly injured, which only made it worse. The aliens that abducted them had roughed them up significantly.

His head throbbed, sending shooting pains down his skull, his ribs ached, and the ties holding his hands in place dug into his skin, worsening the pain emanating from his knuckles - bruised and bloody from trying to fight back. He worried about how Gwen was feeling - the sounds that had come out of her mouth when they were hitting her were horrifying at best - probably would be featuring in his future nightmares, and she couldn’t stand on one of her legs - which was probably broken, if not shattered. 

“Ianto,” Gwen said hesitantly. 

“Yeah?”

“Jack will come find us, right?” she asked, voice trembling on the last word. He butted his head against hers lightly in reassurance. 

“Course he will,” he said, feigning confidence. “He’s taking his time to be extra dramatic. He’ll pop up, coat billowing everywhere, and make some kind of joke about a threesome.”

Gwen laughed, albeit fraught with pain, and he was happy that he could still make her laugh. But as she leaned against him, trying to find comfort in the truly disastrous situation they’d landed into, Ianto wondered exactly how long they’d be able to last, _even if_ Jack was trying to rescue them at the moment

**things you said that I wish you hadn't**

“Stop moving,” Ianto ordered, glaring up at her. Gwen frowned, hissing when he touched the disinfectant-soaked towel to her leg again. 

“It hurts!” she complained, angling her wounded leg away from him. He pulled it back by the knee, careful not to touch the red abrasions and open cuts on it. He grasped her leg tight and continued to lightly brush over it with the disinfectant. 

“If you aren’t going to let me clean them, they’re going to get infected,” he said firmly, finishing up. Gwen scowled at him from above but he ignored her, giving it a final swipe before inspecting it again. 

“Done?” she asked, grimacing. He nodded his head and inspected her leg again. 

“I think it might need stitches,” Ianto said, looking down at the wound-care pamphlet they had been using ever since Tosh and Owen. “It says it needs stitches if the wound is more than a half-inch deep, if it was made by a dirty or rusty object, or fat, muscle, bone, or other deep body structures are visible due to the wound.”

“Are alien claws rusty?” she teased. 

“I don’t know, but according to this picture, this wound right here looks deep enough,” Ianto said, holding up the pamphlet next to her leg. “I don’t think I know how to suture though. I think we need to go to a hospital.”

“Bloody fucking bollocks,” Gwen rolled her eyes. “What kind of injury should we fake this time then?”

“No need,” Jack’s voice came from behind them. “I can do it.”

“You?” Gwen asked, incredulously. “You want to stitch up my leg?”

“I know how to do it!” Jack said, kneeling down next to Ianto. “Can you get me the wound kit from over there?”

Ianto got up to his feet and walked over to the cabinet. Looking around, he quickly spotted the little plastic tin and grabbed it. Handing it over to Jack, he joined Gwen, sitting cross legged next to her on the autopsy beds. She smiled at him, clasping his hand between hers. He looked down as Jack rolled up his sleeves and pulled on the plastic gloves. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Ianto asked, watching as he opened the small plastic cartridge, extracting a tiny curved needle with tweezers. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jack reassured him. He held a pair of tweezers in each hand and brought up the curved needle to Gwen’s leg. She gasped as he began, and squeezed Ianto’s hand tightly. Holding onto it, he rubbed her back with his other hand, smiling at her when she looked at him gratefully. 

“Where did you learn to suture?” Gwen asked after a few minutes. 

“Some of the nurses taught me one day,” Jack said, smiling as he continued to work. “During World War One. They didn’t always have enough nurses for every patient, so I volunteered to help out, since I was there. Of course, back then they called it the Great War. They never thought there would be another one.”

Neither of them spoke, not willing to interrupt him. It was rarely that Jack shared anything, much less anything substantial. 

“That’s where I learned how to stitch up wounds. I can’t do much, but I do have basic battlefield first aid training,” Jack continued. “It was a shock when I first came here, how rudimentary everything was. We used to use robots to fix everything instantly.”

“That must have been nice.”

“It was so much easier. Plus,” he said with a smirk. “If you got a wound, you could always make it deeper so that it would be fun in bed. Because you could heal instantly.”

“Fun in bed?” Gwen asked, hesitantly. Ianto had a feeling he knew where this was going, but he kept his mouth shut out of fear. 

“Yeah,” he grinned wickedly. “I think you might call it wound-fucking?”

“Jack!” exclaimed Ianto, grimacing. Gwen retched, clearly disgusted at the idea. 

“What?” Jack mocked. “I don’t kinkshame and it was perfectly safe!”

“Why would you tell us that,” Gwen winced, looking revolted. “I didn’t want to know!”

“Some fetishes should be kept to yourself!” Ianto glowered. 

“Sorry,” Jack said, not looking the slightest bit sorry. “On the bright side, I’m done stitching. And feel free to take the day off. Maybe put some of that new knowledge you’ve gained today to use with Rhys.”

“ _Jack!_ ”

**things you said that made me feel like shit**

Ianto looked around the Hub, trying to see if anyone was around. Jack was in his office, and Gwen seemed to be in her own world, back facing away from him - twirling a pen idly between her fingers. 

He slowly got up from his chair and headed for the empty greenhouse, a place they hadn’t entered since Owen and Tosh died. He inched up the stairs, making sure to keep his steps light and quiet, so he didn’t attract the attention of Gwen. Entering, he snuck over to the back and extracted a pack of cigarettes and his old lighter from inside his suit pocket. 

Placing a cigarette in his mouth, he flicked his lighter to ignite it, then took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, ignoring the slight pang of guilt that he felt every time he smoked. He’d managed to kick the habit back in London - he finally stopped when he realized it triggered Lisa’s asthma. But he was tired, worn out, and grieving - sick of losing the people he loved, and the temptation to light another one had won out over his years of careful control. 

He leaned against the far wall of the greenhouse, closing his eyes, and sighed, pulling the cigarette closer to his lips. He was about to take another drag when he heard a noise. Opening his eyes, he was met with the image of a furious Gwen. 

“What,” he snapped, unwilling to talk. 

“Smoking? Again?” she glared back. “Don’t you know that they’re killing you!”

“You’re not my mum! I don’t need you to tell me what to do!” he responded, taking a slow drag. Gwen twisted her face in disapproval. 

“I can’t believe you would waste your health like this!”

“I don’t care!” he said, regretting his words instantly, but unable to stop. “And maybe if you didn’t care either, the Hub wouldn’t have half as many arguments as we do now. Tell me Gwen, does fixating on me make you feel like you have a purpose?”

“Oh that’s cold! Your smoking habit could kill me too - and you don’t even seem to care!” she seethed. Ianto could see the rage in her eyes and he felt compelled to yell back. 

“I’m not killing anyone by smoking-”

“-Yes you are! Secondhand smoke kills more people than you think. So if you’re going to be selfish and ruin your lungs, the least you could do is not cause my death as well!” 

Ianto cringed as her words hit him, but Gwen had already spun on her heel and exited the greenhouse. 

***

Gwen walked in and he braced himself. They hadn’t spoken all weekend, possibly the longest they’d gone for a while. When she came near him, he turned away, unable to look her in the eye or talk to her. They’d both spewed vitriol at each other. 

She quietly dropped a small package on his desk, then backed away a few paces, leaning against a desk. He carefully peeled off the brown paper it was wrapped in, staring down at a small box. He opened the box and discovered a small container of nicotine patches. On top of it was a sticky note with a heart drawn on it. He looked up at Gwen, who was biting her lip, looking at him nervously. 

He gave her a small smile, and she nodded in response. Then he shrugged out of his suit jacket. He pulled out the little cufflinks from his shirt, and dropped it. It hit the desk with a small clang. Ianto grasped his shirt cuff and folded it neatly up. He opened the container. Looking straight at Gwen, he pulled out a nicotine patch and stuck it on the inside of his forearm. 

She gave him the biggest smile he’d seen on her in days. 

**things you said after it was over**

“Is he coming?” asked Gwen, lounging against the arm of the sofa. Dangling precariously from her hand was a beer bottle, almost touching the floor, but falling just short of it. “Ianto?” she asked again.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, less distracted now. Gwen shook her head fondly. 

“Is he coming?” she repeated. 

“I don’t know,” Ianto said. “He said he’d try to stop by if the Rift was being quiet. I don’t think he cares enough about rugby.”

“His loss,” shrugged Gwen. She went back to twirling her beer bottle around. Ianto, concerned it might spill, reached out from next to her and pulled it out of her hand. He gave her a pointed look. Rolling her eyes, she took it back and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Just saving you the work of cleaning it,” said Ianto. “Although, considering the mess that you and Jack trekked into the Hub last week, I’m not sure you think that’s a problem.”

“Oi!” Gwen pouted, slapping him lightly across the arm. “I helped clean that up! And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that artifact we brought back?”

The artifact in question was a forty-seventh century virtual reality device, one that made you believe you were anywhere else in the world. You could feel any sensation with it, and Gwen and Ianto had a great time pretending they were in Dalmatia instead of the Hub. 

Then at night, he and Jack had explored its other - more adult - functions. 

“Are you _blushing_!” Gwen teased. “Care to explain?”

“I - refuse to comment,” said Ianto, looking up at the wall instead of at Gwen’s face. Gwen let out a snort and he couldn’t resist giving her a wink. 

“We will be discussing this at a later date, Ianto Jones-”

“-Food?” asked Rhys, bringing in a tray of samosas and a bowl of crisps. “It hasn’t started yet, has it?”

“We’ve still got a minute left,” said Gwen, reaching to the tray to pop a crisp into her mouth. She scooted over, pushing Ianto to the edge of the sofa, and leaving a small amount of space for Rhys. 

“I don’t think this is the best idea,” Rhys commented. The three of them were bunched up together. The sofa, only big enough to fit Gwen and Rhys comfortably, was straining under the weight of all three of them. 

“Do you want to sit on the floor then?” asked Gwen, rolling her eyes. “Don’t complain, the match is about to start!”

***

“Are you kidding me!” Gwen shrieked. “Three points!”

“He needed one try!” exclaimed Rhys. Ianto shook his head bitterly, scowling at the television. 

“I cannot believe we lost to England. I don’t know how we’re supposed to go on like this. It’s embarrassing,” Ianto complained, slumping down into his seat. “What an awful day.”

Then the door opened, and Jack walked in, greatcoat swirling around him. He gave them a big smile, which no one bothered to return. 

“Hey! Did I miss it?” he asked, cheerily. 

“Yes!” they yelled angrily in unison. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos/Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](https://violetmessages.tumblr.com/)


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